Boogeyman
by Fanfic Fish
Summary: Sam and Dean had heard the tales about the Boogeyman, but not once had they ever come across the entity that lives underneath the bed . . . until now. The Boogeyman has set his eyes upon the youngest Winchester, can Dean save him? Read and find out.
1. Meeting The Boogeyman

**Disclaimer**: I don't own them, but that'd be cool if I did!

Hello everyone!

I haven't seen this story done on here, but I haven't looked everywhere yet . . . so I thought I'd give it a try!

Enjoy:

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Hold on Sammy!" Dean yelled, holding onto his brother's hand for dear life. He was watching in horror as Sam was being forcefully dragged underneath the old motel room bed.

The night had been like any other; the brother's were driving around looking for trouble. They hoped to find a job soon, Dean kept on bitching about how he was going to get rusty just sitting around and not pulverizing demon's and ghosts. Then he wouldn't be prepared to save Sam's butt if he got into trouble, which would most certainly happen.

And on this journey to no-where's-ville, Dean had kept on shooting looks over to his baby brother. He was getting kinda worried, Sam wasn't usually _this­_ quiet he'd usually be bitching about not wanting to listen to Metallica, or something like that. Today the youngest Winchester just stared off at the road. When the older Winchester actually got the nerve to ask his baby brother what was wrong, he didn't get an answer that he liked.

"I have a . . . weird feeling. Like something is about to happen," the younger Winchester had whispered. Now was not the time for a migraine, he had to be alert, because if he wasn't prepared for the worst, then him and Dean would surely be screwed.

Knowing that when his brother got the heebie-jeebies, and that his feeling was nothing short of a premonition, Dean pulled off the road at the next crappy motel.

Later, Dean had been taking a shower, while Sam tried to get a decent night of no nightmare filled dreams. A loud holler that sounded very much like Dean's distressed little brother had sounded, and he was off.

He'd come dashing into the room to find his baby brother clawing at the cheap carpet trying to stop whatever it was that was grabbing him and trying to pull him under the bed.

The hand that was holding onto Sam's ankle was huge and deeply scarred. "Dean! A little help would be nice!" Sam shouted, trying to cover his feeling of fear.

Just a few minutes ago, Sam was ready to play in dreamland. As he began to nod off, his eyes had locked on this weird glowing coming from under the bed. He had gotten down on his hands and knees to check it out, and the next thing he knew a huge hand clasped onto his leg and began dragging him under the old bed.

Dean had rushed over and began trying to drag Sam out to relative safety. Damn thing was super-human, or better yet, super-dead. It's vice grip held strongly, making Dean scream obscenities.

As the minutes passed, and the two brothers fought hard to get the hand to loosen it clutch on Sam's leg. Dean had been too afraid of severely hurting Sam's leg to try and shoot the hand with his pistol; he just yanked and kept slamming his fist down upon the bigger one.

He'd noticed that Sam wasn't fighting as hard as he was a few minutes ago, and that bothered him. Sam could easily stave off a poltergeist for hours at a time, but now this . . . _thing_ was draining all his energy. He was feeling queasy, making him hope his stomach would keep its contents inside for a few more minutes.

What the hell was this thing? If he'd known in the first place, he would have already taken care of it. But he didn't recognize anything specific about this entity. Lot's of things his in closets . . . and under the bed.

Sam struggled to hold his head up; he didn't understand why he was so lightheaded. It was indeed odd, because Sam hadn't been _that_ tired and he hadn't put up much of a fight against this . . . thing, so that ruled out exhaustion. Maybe this thing had the power to drain life from its victims. If that were the case then . . . crap.

"Sammy? Can you hear me?" Dean's bold voice asked him. Sam crinkled his nose in confusion; his brother actually sounded worried. The younger Winchester's head swam, and he didn't understand the situation.

"I'm still here," he gasped out. His chest was tightening as if someone was crushing his lungs; they were stealing his breath. "Dean, get _it _off of me . . . I can't breathe!" Sam begged.

_Now there was something Sammy never did_, Dean thought sadly. Time was running thin. Both brothers were sweating heavily, and they could hear the angry cry's of whatever was under the damned bed.

"Eeeek!" the thing shrilled. Dean had to fight from trying to cover his ears; he had never heard something so freaking loud. If he were to let go and cover his ears, the thing would pull Sam under the bed and do god-know-what to him. He realized then that Sam was holding his hands over his ears and had his eyes clenched shut, and then began sluggishly dipping forward on the carpet.

"Sam, listen to me . . . hold on, I can't drag your dead weight. Come on Sammy, open your eyes!" Dean pleaded. There was no way in hell he could do this alone. Sighing with relief when Sam shook his head vigorously and started pulling forward again, Dean swallowed his panic.

Sam was fighting, that he could say truthfully. Screw panic, he was in the middle of a full-blown hyperventilation attack. And that fight, he was losing. "Dean . . . I can't, I'm gonna be sick," Sam muttered right before he threw up all of his stomach's contents.

He heard his brother curse. Then vividly heard the door swing open, and then the shocked question. "Dad?" Damn, Dean sure sounded surprised. Sam wanted to badly wake up from this nightmare . . . cause that's what this was right? It couldn't be real right? Dean would have gotten him out of this mess by now. Not to mention his father was too much of a coward to show his face around the two again.

More curses, and Sam's leg was jostled. He didn't hear the leg snap, but he sure as hell felt it. He didn't even recognize his voice when he screamed out in both pain and fear. His voice sounded hoarse, and it tickled his throat sending him into a coughing fit.

"I'm here Sammy, just hold on a bit longer okay?" Sam smiled softly; it had to be his dad. Not another man in the entire world could make him relax like that.

When his leg was pulled again, the lightheadedness that he had pushed repeatedly away finally settled in. That was the last straw. _Goodbye consciousness_, Sam thought sadly. _Just a dream, just a dream, you'll wake up, and you'll be safe._

As the room began spinning and he felt oddly warm, he realized that the thing was winning. His knees were now under the bed, encompassed in the bright light.

Sam hated the shouting! Back and forth, voices begging him to stay awake, he just wanted it all to stop. Just let him sleep. Every conscious thought was leaving him, and he let his body slump into someone's arms, then yanked angrily from behind.

The youngest Winchester didn't even know he was being pulled further under the bed. He just let his eyes slip shut, and thanked his consciousness for leaving him to dwell in the darkness.

_Ah yes, sleep.

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_

TBC . . . 


	2. Unexpected Visitor

Thank you all for your kind reviews. This chapter does seem a little on the short side, but I promise that the next one will be longer.

Enjoy:

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The situation was growing more desperate as the two conscious fought hard to expel the youngest boy's form from the clutches of the creature that was attacking them.

John tried to calculate the situation to the best of his knowledge. Lot's of demon's and entity's hid under the bed . . . but this one was extremely familiar. Though he had never had a situation that involved himself with the Boogeyman, this was definitely seemingly more and more like the tale that he had heard many times since his own childhood. Whatever this thing was, he'd be damned if it took his youngest, or his oldest boy.

His heart leaped high into his throat when he felt his son's body grow cold. Looking down, he realized that Sam's lips were blue and little puffs of mist tunneled from the half-closed mouth. The creature was taking his body heat.

The oldest Winchester grunted as he pulled harder at his position, holding Sam underneath the armpits so that his son's back was up against his chest. The familiar pang of guilt had hit him full force when he had arrived late, not in time to save his youngest boy the horror of being forced under the musty motel bed.

He observed as Dean talked with his voice strained towards his younger brother. Telling him words of encouragement. John knew that Dean had realized Sam was unconscious, but maybe saying those words had made his oldest feel better.

Dean had his arms cuffed around Sam's legs, trying to be mindful about how hard he was tugging. He had seen his brother's leg snap as if it were just a twig, then the yell of pain. Dean was sure his own heart had stopped, but his steel-hard persona came flying back. He'd die for his brother, just like Sam would do for him, and he'd be damned if he let the 'bed phantom,' take is brother from him.

After Sam had lost consciousness, the _thing_ had been able to use his super human strength to override the strength of the older Winchester's and managed to pull the limp man halfway under the glowing bed.

"Dean, I have an idea," John's voice was heavy with exertion. He calculated the plan, it was the only hope they had, and if they screwed up, Sam would pay for it with most likely his life. Hopeful blue eyes bore into his, old memories came flooding back, and he quickly shook his head, ridding himself of the weakness. Now was not the time to reminisce on old times.

"Now would be a great time to do something about it then," Dean blared angrily. After being mysteriously absent for months, the prick decided to wait until his son was in danger for what seemed like the hundredth time to show his face again.

"Hold him tight, I have to let go for a minute," John said as he prepared to let go.

As soon as John let go and with his legs moving quickly he sat down on the floor at the side of the bed. He positioned his legs, settling the heel of his feet on the bar that held the bed together. After slamming the ball of his hands into the ground to anchor himself, his eyes carried over to Dean.

Both of his sons were now being yanked underneath the bed. Dean was still holding strong onto Sam, but the creature was pulling harder so he was now dragging both brothers' further under the bed. Sam's torso was fully hidden by the bed, and Dean had to move his position to prevent him from going under the bed.

"On three," John called. "One . . . two . . . three," and with that, John kicked the bed upwards. The frame shot up then tumbled over on the other side of the room.

Dean couldn't help but gape at the scene in front of eyes. There was a big glowing hole in the center of where the bed used to be, and jutting halfway out of it was the ugliest _thing_ Dean had ever seen. It looked like a giant bat, only manlike, and it was scaly and hairy. Its chin was pointy, and its sharp teeth shone a bright yellow.

"Eeeek," it shrilled again. The _thing_ eyes flashed angrily and after giving Sam's body one more tug and failed to pull him into the hole, it let go and let itself fall down into the hole. The bright light faded with the hole until it finally disappeared completely, leaving all three Winchester's behind.

Dean let his body fall backward exhausted. He breathed heavily, giving way to the exhaustion that plagued him. "What was that thing?" he asked breathing heavily.

"I . . . I think we just met the Boogeyman," John spoke in a voice that showed his distaste. "When I was holding Sam, I could feel his body begin to freeze, I think that this thing overpowers it's victims by sucking their body warmth and sending them into shock . . . and eventually leading to them losing consciousness.

"Oh hell no," Dean exclaimed. "I thought that the 'Boogeyman' wasn't real . . . there hasn't been any stories or actual sightings or even suspicions linking that _thing_ to any disappearances."

"It doesn't matter . . . people go missing all the time, suspected kidnappings mostly, this is no different," John explained.

"I thought that the . . . Boogeyman only went after children," Dean told him, as he got to his knees and began checking over his younger brother. A few bumps and bruises he'd have a lovely carpet rash in the morning not mention one hell of a broken leg. Well that'd be fun to lug around for six weeks.

"Common misconception . . . as a child I heard that it can go after anyone it likes, it just prefers younger blood, and adults with the gift to see the entity's through dreams," John spoke lowly, kneeling next to his son's. His eyes wandered down to Sam's leg, he couldn't risk setting it here, and he'd risk damaging it more if it happened to be shattered.

"Are you okay?" John's hard tone didn't surprise Dean as he answered the question. "Yeah, but Sammy needs to see a doctor about the leg."

_Smart boy, _John though proudly while nodding his head. "Let's get him to the hospital and figure this thing out.

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TBC . . .


	3. Hospital Musings

Hello everyone... I'm sorry for the long wait... and I hope you all will forgive... at least until I'm finished with this story...

Enjoy:

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Glazed brown eyes opened slowly, penetrating the drowsiness that hung over his senses like a thick blanket. Images were blurred but slowly clearing as focus returned.

"Sammy?" a familiar voice asked.

"Dean?" Sam croaked. Confusion masked itself clearly on his face as he gazed up at his older brother. "What happ'ed?" he asked, his voice slurring the words.

Dean frowned down at his brother. "We… well mostly you… were attacked back in the hotel room remember? That fugly thing pulled you under the bed… it kinda reminded me of your first girlfriend . . . "

Sam nodded slightly not caring to acknowledge his brother's horrible attempt at being funny. Thinking back on the event sent many different feelings he had, old and new, while fighting the thing for control of his own body smashing into him like a whirlwind. He began taking count of the injuries he had sustained, his eyes glaring disappointedly at his heavily encased leg. Sam couldn't help but groan.

"Sam… before you get all school-boy on me I should tell you… Dad's here," Dean's voice trailed off, getting softer when he spoke his father's name.

"So I wasn't hallucinating?" Sam realized, throwing his arm over his eyes to block out the blinding light beaming from above his hospital bed.

"I'm afraid not Sammy. But on the up note, the nurses taking care of your sad ass are… well lets just say if I were you I'd be taking full advantage of the situation… perhaps requesting a sponge bath…" Dean grinned as he dodged a fluffy white pillow thrown his way.

"It's good to know that my near-death hasn't effected your astounding wit Dean," Sam said as he half-smiled unable to hide his amusement. His eyes instantly turned serious as a figure moved within the door making his older brother turn around.

"Dad," Dean greeted with a curt nod of his head.

John ignored his eldest son as he went to sit next Sam's bed. "How are you feeling Sammy?"

It was at that moment that Sam realized his mouth was hanging wide open. "Uh… I'm fine… can't feel a thing at the moment…"

"God bless hospital drugs," Dean muttered from his station at the door.

"What are you doing here Dad?"

John Winchester locked eyes with his son's brown ones, searching for something that didn't seem to be there or perhaps something he didn't want to see. "I got a call from an old war buddy. He called me up and left a message saying that he saw the both of you heading into this area. I came here to make sure you both were safe."

The brown eyes the bore daggers into John Winchester's own instantly told the older man that his son knew he was lying. Oddly enough, Sam didn't push his father for answers at the moment. But that didn't stop Dean from pointing out that the statement had to be a lie.

"That's the biggest load of shi…"

"Oh your awake Mr. Winchell," a redheaded woman spoke as she walked through the door. A white lab coat swaying against her body as she walked to Sam's unoccupied side. "I'm Dr. Gardener, I've been treating you while you've been here."

Sam's eyebrows knotted together as this woman hinted he'd been out for a large amount of time. "How long have I been out?"

"Three day's. Your body was in shock when your father and brother brought you in. You should have known better than to go into the woods without proper clothing, and you're lucky that your family found you when they did. If hypothermia had set in you'd probably be in critical condition right now."

The youngest Winchester winced at the realization that this woman had been lied to. He knew he'd never get used to lying… after all, he did it so badly. Dean would amuse himself with watching Sam squirm under their father's glare when he'd sneak out to retrieve a homework assignment from school when a hunt had lasted into the school week.

The doctor fiddled with Sam's I.V. and looked at the readings of the many different types of equipment, periodically scribbling things down on the clipboard securely set in her hand. When she was done, she promised to send a nurse with more of the blessed drugs before leaving the family in silence again.

Sam looked over at his brother and wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Winchell?"

Dean gave his little brother a lopsided grin. "I panicked okay! I wasn't exactly thinking straight at the time Sammy, you were unconscious and your skin resembled that of a Smurf… it was the first thing that popped into my head!"

John couldn't help but lightly chuckle at his boys friendly jesting. It had been so long since he had seen his son's bright smiles; he'd only been able to imagine them. God knows he preferred seeing them for real.

"Whatever Dean, next time try to use a name that doesn't sound like serial killers," Sam told his brother, relishing in the fact that he finally got something to torture his brother with.

"So… you want a rundown of your injuries?" Dean asked, expertly changing the subject before Sam could continue his rampage.

Sam rolled his eyes thinking, _nice save Dean_. "Sure, what's the damage."

"One shattered leg… the doctor said something about your core temperature being dangerously low. Then something about how hypothermia should have set in, but didn't."

"What was that thing that grabbed me?" Sam asked, very aware that no one had mentioned the newly arisen problem.

"Are you boys familiar with the story of the Boogeyman?" John Winchester asked, his eyes trailing down to the black bag lying at his feet. Now was a time to be prepared.

"When I was a kid," Dean said, remembering the childish 'scary stories' his friends use to tell whenever he'd sleepover before his mom had been killed. "Tell me again why it would go after Sammy being that he isn't a kid."

"Like I said, it's a common misconception Dean," John told his son. "Most supernatural beings can go after whoever they choose, it's just that the spirits _choose _to go after the person connected to their demise. After all, it's only through the people that put them there that they can move on to the afterlife."

"So your saying that the 'Boogeyman' is going after Sammy because its bored with its regular victims? Or because Sammy might have ESP?" Dean asked, not quite able to hold back the snort that broke free from him.

"Its Sam," Sam corrected.

Dean rolled his eyes and looked over to his father, who had a look on his face that clearly said, 'No that's not the reason why, but I'm not going to tell you'.

John Winchester got to his feet and leaned over to pat Sam on the knee. "I'm going to go ask the doctor when you can get out of here, we have a lot to talk about Sammy."

Dean tried to hide his surprise when Sam didn't correct his father for saying 'Sammy', but of course, Sam never did. Their father being the only person besides the boy's deceased mother allowed to speak the nickname.

"Why can't you just tell us what the hell is going on dad?" Sam asked, sitting forward while ignoring the discomfort of his constricting muscles.

"Sammy, not now. Not here. It's not safe," John spoke, his voice holding no room for discussion.

"Oh yeah, I can tell that this family shindig is gonna be tons of fun," Dean muttered as he took his father's seat beside his little brother who was noticeably seething at their father's lack of answers. "I know you are tired Sammy, just go to sleep."

"I don't get him," Sam whispered as he rested his head back on the lone pillow, his heavy eyelids dropped to rest against his flushed cheeks.

A few minutes passed and Dean was brought back from his silent musings when soft snores flitted into his ears. He smiled down at his sleeping baby brother and wiped away a few of the dark bangs that hung over Sam's forehead.

"It'll be fine Sammy," he whispered, unaware that his father was standing at the door, watching Dean's comfort session with his youngest son.

"Help me protect them Mary," John whispered, looking up to the ceiling, silently hoping that the message would be received.

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TBC... 


	4. Strange Symptoms

Wow... I can't believe how long it's been! Time certainly shows no mercy does it? I know it's been a very, very long time since I last updated but I really do want to finish this story as well as my others. It may be a slow going process but I do plan on finishing them ^_^

Thanks to all of you who have reviewed, and those that are still interested in this story even though I've been the worst procrastinator on the planet.

I don't have a BETA so please excuse the grammar and spelling mistakes.

**Warnings:** there is a good amount of Sammy pain and angst in this chapter... mwahahaha! Just because I love a limp Sam and a distressed Dean :)

For those of you who are still curious to see how this all is going to go down... hahaha...

Enjoy Chapter Four:

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The first thing Sam realized as he ventured back into consciousness was that he was alone in his hospital room. He wondered where his brother and father had wondered off to, he remembered his father telling him that he was going to go and speak with his doctor to find out when he'd be released. He couldn't have been asleep that long, could he?

Sam turned his head towards the door and listened, hoping he'd hear a familiar voice. After a few minutes of not hearing anything other than the light patter of footsteps and the occasional ring of a phone he turned his head back towards the window on the other side of his bed.

The sky was dark with menacing clouds that looked as if they'd erupt soon all over the city that lay below them. A bright spark of light flittered out against the sky, and Sam became entranced as droplets began to fall from the heavens.

"You're awake," a feminine voice deduced from the doorway.

Sam jerked his head towards the sound as his attention was shaken from the window. It was a nurse dressed in the normal baby blue scrubs. "My father and brother?" he implored scratchily. He coughed slightly against the dryness in his throat.

The woman walked towards him, grabbed an ugly pink pitcher sitting on the side-table and tipped the nozzle into a plastic cup. "Here, drink this," she said kindly as she put her hand beneath his neck and leaned him forward.

Sam allowed the assistance and reveled in the lukewarm water that softened the tissue in his throat. "Thank you," Sam muttered once he was lying back against the pillows again. "My brother Dean…"

The woman laughed slightly while shaking her head. "It took three of us to convince him to leave your bedside to go downstairs to the cafeteria and get some food. He wanted to be here when you woke up… I'm guessing he's going to give me quite the ear full."

Sam smiled and nodded at her explanation. "That sounds like him." He decided not to ask about his father seeing as when they were children and in the hospital after a bad hunt, their father would disappear for hours at a time… Sam never understood why or where he went.

The nurse tinkered around him and the machines he was connected to, asking him nonsense questions from time to time. "Dr. Gardener will be in to check on you in a little while. She'll be pleased to hear that your blood pressure is rising to a more normal level."

The young Winchester nodded feeling too drained to speak. Sam felt as if a strange numbness had settled deep within his bones and he felt as if he hadn't slept a wink, he was drained. His eyes began to droop again when he felt a new presence enter the room.

"Sammy," Dean said.

Sam turned to look at his grinning brother, catching the relief that twinkled in his brother's eyes. He offered a small smile and said softly, "You look like shit."

Dean's right eyebrow arched in amusement and he rolled his eyes. "Nice to see you too bro." He took his stationary seat next to his brother's bed and thumbed the warm cup of coffee he had retrieved from the cafeteria. "Those nurses are pushy."

Sam's smile increased. "They're only pushy because you're so stubborn Dean."

Dean scowled and shook his head. "Whatever Sammy, just because you wrap people around your finger doesn't mean you've got me fooled!"

A deep chuckle erupted from Sam's throat at the proclamation. If he had anyone wrapped around his finger, it would definitely be his big brother Dean. He shrugged and began, "Hey, it's not my fault my charm makes women swoon unlike yours… which repels."

"Yeah right Sammy. The only women you swoon are the old ladies who want to pinch your cheeks like the adorable giant they think you are," Dean laughed. "I swoon enough women Sam, many more than you."

Sam snorted and shook his head. The room became quiet again as the boy's settled back down into the hospital atmosphere. "I thought I was getting out of here."

Dean shook his head slightly. "The doctor is still worried about your blood pressure and how lethargic you seem to be," he informed Sam. He looked at Sam, noting the dark circles around his eyes and how pale he seemed to be under the stark florescent lights. "How's the leg?"

Sam's eyes shot down to the bulky outline of the blanket-covered cast. "I forgot I broke it," he mumbled softly.

Dean didn't appear to have heard him. "Does it hurt?"

The younger Winchester shook his head and sighed. "I can't really feel it right now. I must be on some pretty heavy painkillers."

"I guess so," Dean said. He leaned over and grabbed the remote sitting next to the water pitcher. "Think there's any good soap opera's on?"

_"…these are the days of our lives…"_ came on through the TV.

"Aha," Dean cried victoriously. "Told you."

Sam rolled his eyes. Several minutes passed and his body began tiring even more and he let the sound of his brother breathing and the sounds of the TV lull him back to sleep.

* * *

_Sam was back in the motel room, legs securely wrapped by the hands pulling him beneath the bed. "Dean!" he was screaming helplessly. _

_The room was empty, save for him and the creature set on pulling him beneath the structure. "Dean, where are you? Help me!"_

_The scene changed suddenly and he was floating in a dark abyss. He could feel someone pursuing him, so he ran, and ran, and ran. _

_"Sammy!"_

_He knew that voice. "Dean! Where are you?"_

_"Sammy!"_

_"Dean, something's following me! Where are you? It's too dark…"_

_Sam screamed at the sudden loss beneath his feet and he was floating again._

* * *

"Sammy!"

Sam's eyes snapped open and all he could see was white. There was an incredible buzzing in his ears as his body was trembling. Tan blobs hovered above his face and his eyes and brain didn't want to comprehend what was going on around him.

The younger Winchester felt as if someone had set his body on fire, and the light above him was so bright it felt as if he was going to go blind. He could feel his eyes rolling around and he was paralysis to stop it. Hands were all over him, pressing him to the bed.

"Sam," a voice spoke strongly and rose over the buzzing in his ears as well as the frantic voices that surrounded him. Two strong hands took him by the face and held Sam's head still.

Dean… it was Dean.

"Are you with us Sammy?"

"Bright," Sam bit out painfully.

"Turn down the damn lights!" A feminine voice called out.

Suddenly the white that had burned through Sam's retinas dissipated and he could see his brother's face clearly staring back at him with a concerned expression. Sam also realized that there were several other people in the room, all holding him down to the bed and hovering above him.

"Dean," Sam slurred. His body felt leaden, too heavy to control or even move. "Dean," he bit out more desperately. He didn't understand what was going on around him and was frightened at the realization that his body was too heavy for him to shift.

"It's okay Sammy," Dean soothed softly as he smoothed Sam's sweaty hair back with his hand. His own heart that was previously thudding harshly against his ribcage was finally starting to slow down. "You scared the crap outta me kiddo."

Dean knew he wouldn't soon be forgetting the image of his brother's face twisted in pain, or the bright red that had soaked his brother's skin tint. The keening sounds that had leaked from his brother's lips had terrified the older Winchester as did the uncontrollable trembling that had controlled his brother's frame. He was relieved when Sam's eyes had regained their warmth and recognition.

Doctor Gardener pushed past Dean and leaned down to Sam's face, turning on her penlight and pointing it into Sam's dilated eyes.

"What was that?" Dean demanded.

"I'm not sure," Dr. Gardener answered honestly. "No hypothermia victims I've ever treated have had episodes like that."

Dean cringed at the remembrance of the lie he'd spun when him and his father had brought Sam here. He new he needed to get to a private phone so he could call his dad who was researching the 'Boogeyman'.

"How are you feeling Sam?"

"Tired," Sam mumbled barely coherent. "… hot," he mumbled as a response to the shivers that racked his tiring frame.

Dr. Gardener turned to one of her nurses and said, "Let's get some cold packs on him and see if we can level out his temperature."

"I don't understand…" Dean mumbled helplessly. "If he was hypothermic then wouldn't his temperature be low, not high?"

"That's the problem Mr. Winchell," Dr. Gardner told him in a clipped tone.

Dean looked down to his brother and saw that he'd nodded off again. He sighed deeply and pressed the tip of his fingers into his temples in distress, knowing that Sam's bizarre symptoms were connected to the thing that had tried to pull him beneath the bed at the motel.

"Mr. Winchell, why don't you step outside while I check Sam over and take some blood for a few tests."

Dean didn't get the opportunity to protest before he was escorted out of the room, and the door was shut in his face.

"Dammit Sam!"

Screw calling his dad, he needed to find him now!

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TBC... I'm excited to get everyone's feedback, so please hit me up with a comment.


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